


Just Another Baby

by WatchOverYourAssButt



Series: Woya's Ficlets [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Castiel Adopts A Cat, Castiel and Cats, Dean's Allergies, Gen, Grumpy Dean, animal adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6393715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchOverYourAssButt/pseuds/WatchOverYourAssButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wants to take in a stray, and Dean is mostly against it because 1) its not their responsibility (and they have too damn many), and 2) its a freakin' cat, and he's not going to deal with sneezing his brains out for the rest of his life. But Castiel is pleading, and Dean knows he won't hear the end of it (or see the end of the pouting) if he says no. </p><p>Castiel will get tired of it anyways, right? Sam went through a cat phase. So why not let him take it in, and just wait for the inevitable blow out.</p><p>Dean loves being so 'right'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Baby

 

**Just Another Baby**

 

 

 

“Dean. Please, hear me out.”

“No, Cas. Look, this isn’t a discussion! You DO realize, you’re putting me in danger with this, right? You’re asking me to endure hell.”

“I fought through the hell you experienced, Dean. This is NOT hell. I believe you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“You want me to suffer!”

“It won’t be as bad as you think. I could even assist you in handling it, if you’d just give it a chance. Please?”

Dean grumbled angrily, walking down the stairs as Castiel stayed up, leaning over the railing and watching Dean storm off as he stayed near the entrance to the bunker. The angel was honestly PLEADING, for this, and that almost made Dean think about it. Almost.

But no way was he going to endure the discomfort agreeing to this would bring him. What good reason should he, anyways? The hunter chucked off his jacket, tossing it on the back of one of the chairs as he was heading for the kitchen. Castiel called after him, but Dean ignored, waiting for the inevitable zapping. It didn’t come as soon as he thought, as he arrived at the kitchen without being stopped in the hall, or without being greeted at his destination by the determined presence of the angel.

But he still came, of course, as Dean put to work on a sandwich, appearing (from what Dean heard AND felt) right behind him, and his suspicion was confirmed as he heard the angel speak once more, arguing his point.

“How is it, Dean, that you can risk yourself on a mission or case, to assist those in need, but I cannot lend a hand to a being in suffering, looking to me for help?”

Dean groaned loudly and dramatically, dropping his head back and putting the condiments and other such things to the side as he turned to face Cas, leaning against the counter and watching Cas with a narrowed gaze.

“You seriously want to take on this sort of responsibility?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re willing to deal with the problems IT will cause, for you, and for me, therefore me for you?” Dean offered, and despite the confusing wording, Castiel still understood.

“Yes.”

“And how the hell do you think you can HELP me handle that thing?” Dean questioned.

Castiel scrunched his nose a bit. “What power I still have provides me with the effect of easing allergic reactions, such as yours. I cannot take it away, but I can make it bearable. About as bearable as your back pains are.”

“I don’t have back pains.”

“Of course.”

Dean narrowed his gaze, wondering if Castiel’s quick agreement was sarcasm or not. He glared him down for it, anyways. That glare stayed as they watched each other in silence, waiting for the other to give in.

“You understand what your responsibility with it entails, right?” Dean questioned, crossing his arms.

“Feeding him, cleaning him, caring for him, keeping up with him, cleaning up after him, taking responsibility for any problems he might cause.” Castiel listed off with ease.

“It’s a him? When did you even check?”

“He’s come around enough, Dean. Another reason why I’d like to take him in; he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else that’s like a home, so he comes here…” He explained, a sympathetic tone in his words.

Dean ran a hand over his face, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “…This isn’t going to end well. He’ll last a week, tops, and then one or more of us will be booting him out.” He predicted.

Castiel narrowed his gaze, before a premature smirk of victory started creeping. “Then we might as well get it over with.”

“Oh, wipe the smirk, Cas. I’m only doing this to shut you up.” Dean pointed his finger, returning to his sandwich.

Castiel’s smirk softened into a smile.

“Of course, Dean.”

 

***

 

“You caved.” Sam accused as Dean was using his brothers laptop to search for a case. He could at least offer a chance for Castiel to get acquainted enough to realize how bad an idea this was, so finding a job to give Castiel some uninfluenced time seemed the best idea. Plus, he wasn’t up for an attack of his allergies.

“He’s gotta learn somehow.” Dean stated simply.

Sam leaned against the table by Dean and the laptop, raising a brow. “Learn what, exactly? Are you planning on him getting rid of it?”

“Him.”

“Okay, him.” Sam laughed, watching Dean a moment before continuing. “You’re just giving them a chance to warm up to each other and bond more than they already have. Cas will angel-zap your ass if you try and get rid of him.”

“Hey, you wanted a cat once, too. That stray that came around?” Dean pointed out. “You begged dad, despite him telling you no and using my allergy as a reason beyond ‘because I said no’. You wouldn’t let up, so he let you take it in and gave you a chance to realize that you weren’t ready for it. And that you didn’t like cats. So I’m giving Cas the same chance.”

“Yeah, but Cas isn’t a seven year old with no friends and an aversion to responsibility.”

“I promise you, dude. By this time next week? The cat will be gone.”

“Sure.” Sam didn’t sound as if he believed that in the least. “So, it’s been a day; has he named it yet?”

“Nah. Too busy giving him the tour of the bunker. You should hear him, talking to it as they go, as if the cat cares what the rooms are used for; just what it can use it for—a crashing spot or a scratching post...”

Sam stood up again, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Better hope it takes him a week to name it. Or else, it’s never leaving.” He told Dean, walking off.

“Fuzzy left.” Dean called after him.

“Seven year old, Dean!” Sam called back.

 

***

 

Dean had been confident thus far, since he allowed Castiel to take in the Bombay feline. Once him and Sam had gotten back from a quick job, he’d happened to spot Castiel chasing after it by the end of that first night, and heard him searching through half the rest of the night (he had to get up and give Cas a lecture for it, only to find the cat for Castiel when he came out and stepped on its tail). The next morning, the cat was a little unresponsive. He stuck around, but he wouldn’t stay in Castiel’s arms, and wouldn’t respond to the angels cooing and clicking, beyond staring at him.

By Dean’s calculations, he thought the feline would be gone by tomorrow, if not the next day.

He had come to give Cas a talk about letting go, and how he had good intentions in taking it in, and yada yada, don’t be hard on himself for not succeeding. He found Castiel sitting in the floor by the bookshelf, though, and his confidence wavered.

Castiel was sat on the floor with his back to Dean, trench-coat and even jacket off, both lying in the floor and Dean was about to question why, when he saw the black mass that was feline rolling around on the clothing, getting comfortable and then moving again from jacket to coat.

“They are comfortable, aren’t they, Baby? I find them to be, even if they are just clothes.” Castiel spoke to the feline, and Dean raised a brow.

“Baby?” he questioned, and Castiel turned, surprised. The cat, lying on its side, looked at Dean briefly with a green, brown-flecked and streaked gaze, before licking at its arm.

“Y-yes.” Castiel nodded. “It’s his name..”

“What kind of name is baby for a cat?” Dean questioned, walking closer, and ‘Baby’ began just staring at him, seeming to be preparing to prepare to run or pounce, and Dean slowed his footsteps, eyeing him.

“The same name for a black car.” Castiel pointed out, drawing Dean’s attention. Castiel wore a defensive look as he explained, “His fur reminded me of your Baby, so I thought it was fitting.”

Dean shook his head. “If you say so…” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, Castiel practically stealing his name for his dear possession, but it’s not like he had claim on the name. “You know, his fur is going to get all over your clothes if you let him do that.”

Castiel glanced to Baby, and then back to Dean with a shrug. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well—you better make sure that fur doesn’t get on any of my stuff.” Dean grunted, and Castiel nodded.

Castiel turned his attention back to the feline as ‘Baby’ had gotten up and had begun to stroll around Cas, climbing across his legs and lap, then around behind him and back around. Castiel watched him all the while, with a small smile, one Dean had only seen now and again.

And then Baby was between Castiel’s legs, rising so that his paws were on Castiel’s chest and he was reaching and reaching, Castiel leaning down curiously, until the cats tongue was licking at his nose.

And he laughed, his face breaking into a pleased, toothy grin as he felt the felines tongue lapping at his nose.

Dean’s shoulders fell.

He was screwed.

 

***

 

That’s how he felt, until the next day, when he woke from a much needed nap and wandered the bunker to find Castiel flitting to and fro in a panic. He looked distressed and restless, and it sent him red flags.

“Cas, what’s up?” Dean asked, still in his robe and what he wore as pajama’s (aka, a shirt and his underwear). He rubbed at an eye sleepily, but he was becoming more alert.

“Baby. He’s gone, Dean, and I don’t know why he left.” He told him quickly, and Dean was realizing Castiel was stress-pacing. He watched him go for a moment, before commenting. “I’ve been using up my angel mojo cleaning up after him, I can’t…sense him, I think he left…”

“You sure he isn’t just hiding somewhere small and hard to see and get to?” Dean offered. Sure, he hadn’t had pets, really, but Fluffy had been around enough, and he’d seen enough strays to know the spots cats could get themselves into. Like between a friend and a wall, despite how cramped the space was. Or hiding under the bed or couch.

“No, Dean, we-we were outside, I think…I think he may have ran away…” Castiel admitted, stopping his pacing, his shoulders slumping, and when he looked up at Dean, the man could’ve sworn Sam had been wrong saying that Castiel’s want for the cat wasn’t like seven year old Sam’s. The crestfallen look on his face was like that of an over grown kid who’d just got his favorite toy broken and thrown away.

Dean felt a small twinge of victory, but it didn’t really flourish as he saw Castiel’s gaze fall and he turned to take a seat at the table, shoulders slumped further, his arms limp in his lap. Now Dean almost felt guilty for wishing the little guy gone. “Oooor, maybe he’ll be back—from what I’ve heard, pets tend to wander off sometimes, but they can come right back. Cat’s do what they want, dude, entitled little… He could easily come back.”

“He wasn’t a pet, Dean, he was a friend.” Castiel looked up at Dean then, brows furrowed. He looked pitiful.

Dean sighed. “Look, Cas-”

“I should have expected this, eventually..” Castiel stated, looking at his hands as he fiddled with them.

“Expected what?”

“Him to leave.”

“What does that mean?” Dean questioned, stepping closer, but Castiel stood then, and headed out of the room without a word. He headed for the stairs, and Dean wondered if he was planning to look for him again, or if he was just going out there to wallow.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “This is not a good morning…” he grumbled, and went off to fix himself some coffee. Dragging his feet, he found the kitchen and lazily worked on starting a pot. As he waited, he considered something to fix, but some morning’s food right away just didn’t always agree with him, and this was one of those mornings.

He leaned against the counter lazily, thinking about the angel who was probably outside pouting, and calling pitifully for the feline.  Dean pitied him a bit, and considered if he should distract him. The cat went away, and if he didn’t come back soon, he probably wasn’t going to. The feline may have decided, after experiencing Cas and the bunker, that he didn’t like it. Can’t force it to stay, and he was sure once that possibility set in for Castiel, Cas would accept it.

Maybe he should take Castiel on a hunt with him and Sam, to get his mind off of it.

He finally heard the beeping noise of the coffee finishing, and he collected a coffee cup, and with a yawn, he poured his cup. Setting the pot back in place, he watched the steam rising out of the cup, having to resist that crazy urge to go ahead and sip.

And then there was the sudden crash of one of the big spoons to the ground, and Dean looked around for someone, and when he found no one, he was immediately on edge—there shouldn’t be any ghosts or anything here, and he was about to start running through what the hell could have done that as he looked at the spoon, but as he looked to where it had fallen from, he had his answer.

“…Well, son of a bitch.” He stated, placing down his cup on the counter, and the source of the clatter stared him down with green eyes flecked with brown, and meowed in response.

The cat was poised comfortably, confidently on the counter, watching Dean, tail slowly and faintly swishing behind him.

Dean took a hesitantly step forward, and then pointed an accusing finger. “You know, Cas is probably out there looking for you, right now. He thinks you ran off on him. That was a dick move.” He informed the animal.

The cat watched him a little longer, looked down at the fallen spoon, and then looked further across the counter. As if looking for its next victim as it rose from its sitting position.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” Dean stepped closer, still keeping most of his distance. “You better…you know, give Cas a lot of furry little nuzzles and shit for that. Better let the guy cuddle you, too.”

The cat meowed again, longer, barely glancing at Dean. It was watching the other dishes on the counter, and the coffee maker, and Dean’s coffee cup that lay ahead of him, his steps becoming less hesitant as he was crossing the counter.

“Hey, hey.” Dean warned, getting closer, and the cat stopped as Dean was very close now, and it watched Dean. “I see what you’re doing. Now off the counter, I’m not going to deal with your fur and crap tainting my counter, I make sandwiches on that thing!” he pointed at the ground, expecting the feline to follow. Only its gaze followed, though, and then it was looking back in the directly of cup. “Hey!”

He stepped closer, just by the counter now, and he snapped his fingers and pointed toward the ground. “Off the counter, now.” He ordered firmly.

The cat just stared.

“Don’t make me go get Cas.” Dean said. He really didn’t want to. He got the feeling the feline was looking for his next victim, and that victim would be his freshly made coffee. But the cat wasn’t even THINKING of getting off the counter with Dean’s ordering tone thus far, how was Dean supposed to get him down? He sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna make me make those stupid noises, aren’t you?”

The feline gave a strange mix of a purr and a meow, and Dean almost felt like that was a sarcastic confirmation.

Face twitching with irritation, he rolled his eyes, and started with the clicking noise, taking a step closer, though slowly to hopefully seem comforting or nice enough that the feline would actually obey. Why he thought it would, he didn’t know. Cat’s weren’t exactly known for being obedient, waiting for their masters  orders. They did what they wanted, when they wanted, and lazed about for the rest of the day.

But he started the clicking noise, only somewhat hopeful. The cats attention went to and fro a bit, but it didn’t linger on Dean as long as it lingered on the cup. He saw the cat raising a paw, as if preparing to swat at is cup.

“Ah!” Dean sputtered, as if telling a child ‘no no’ about something, holding his finger up pointed at the cat, and he continued clicking and flicking his fingers for the cat’s attention. The cat wasn’t budging, though. No, now, he was watching Dean, and hovering his hand up. It shook and wavered, as Dean continued angry, determined ‘Ah ah’s!’.

Its paw was stretching for the cup now, and Dean had enough, he closed the space he’d tried to keep to avoid too close of contact with the feline. He grabbed the cup, pushing it away, splashing a few drops of coffee on his finger. Hissing, he brought his hand to his lips and then suddenly, there was a ‘mreer’ that grew in volume, and then there was weight colliding into his chest, sharp claws clinging into his shirts and a little into his skin as he looked down at the cat climbing up his chest.

Hissing at the faint pain in his chest, he wrapped an arm under it in the sudden confusion and panic, trying to figure out how to get the thing off him. “Hey, hey, no, off, off now.”

Why he thought giving it any more orders would work, he didn’t know. It continued crawling up his chest, with better footing with Dean’s arm under it, and he leaned up towards Dean’s aching finger, meow’ing and before he could realize what it was doing, he felt the strangely painful yet soothing warmth of its tongue licking over the burn.

“Ay, ow, stop that, that… Look, I’m fine, dude, you can stop. It feels weird.” He used the arm under the cat to try and pull him away, but the cat continued to reach for Dean’s finger to try and lick it. He sighed, and let him for a moment longer, watching the furry little bastard. The action made him wonder if the cat was doing it just for selfish reasons, like wanting to taste the coffee or something else random, or if it was actually trying to tend to his slight wound.

He didn’t wonder for long, though. Because he felt it coming.

The sneeze. He couldn’t even consider putting the cat down or dropping him, he just pulled him in one direction, and turned his head in the other as he gave a loud sneeze. Shaking his head and then wiping his mouth and nose on his robe sleeve, he looked back at the feline drearily.

“See what you did?” he accused, just the faintest tone of congestion creepy on him.

The cat just quirked his head at Dean.

And that’s when he honestly realized, and reluctantly accepted. This cat was Castiel’s, and he was staying.

With a sigh, he grabbed his coffee, still cradling the feline who watched the room and him contently, and he made his way down the hall to seek out Cas. When he reentered the study and found no one, he knew Castiel must still be outside. He looked at the stairs, and briefly glared at them, before he decided.

He went and sat at the table, the feline settled to him and in his arm, undisturbed by the sneezes that were coming faster, though when Dean brought the drink towards his lips, he noticed the cat eyeing him intently, and he eyed him right back before he lowered the drink out of the felines reach and took a breath.

“Hey, C-C-Ca-aa-aachoo!! …Cas. Could use you in here. Be nice if you hurried, I got a problem and I need your help before it gets worse, and trust me, it’ll get worse.” He spoke in his usual tone reserved for praying to Cas, eyes half shut as he did so, before opening them and looking to the door. He heard nothing just yet, and his eyes narrowed. “I know you can hear me. Don’t make me use the phone, or I will ring you until you get a headache.”

There it was, the noise of the door opening, and then the next one and he saw the angels legs and the ends of his trench coat as he came back inside, heading down the stairs at a pace that could only be described as sullen. Whether consciously or not, Dean had turned away from the stairs, enough that most his side and back were facing Castiel as he was making his way over, and the feline was completely out of view.

“For the record, I don’t get headaches.” Castiel felt the need to comment.

“Well lucky y-yuh-…e’CHOO!!” Dean sneezed, shook his head, and continued. “-you.”

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Castiel asked, and there was faint annoyance, but it didn’t overshadow the sincere worry Dean had caused in the angel.

“Well, you just heard it. My allergies.” Dean stated, taking a sip of his drink, keeping it at a weird angle that confused Castiel.

“I can ease them for now, I’m sorry. With Baby gone, you shouldn’t have to worry about that.” Castiel told him, and Dean heard him stepping closer more than he saw him.

That’s when he set his cup down on the table, a strange distance from himself as he said, “Yeah, well, I’m thinking I’m going to have to, actually.”

And as Dean had expected, the feline leapt onto the table to follow his drink with curious determination, despite Dean keeping a finger on the handle of the cup.

Castiel’s eyes widened, and he made a noise almost like a gasp as he stepped forward and around the table. “Baby!” he exclaimed, and Dean made a face and laughed to himself; he almost pitied Castiel that it was a feline that got him to exclaim a name like that and not a significant other, but Castiel never seemed to be one to be bothered by things like that.

The feline stared at the cup a moment longer, but as Dean dragged the cup away and Castiel reached a hand to carefully caress over the feline’s back, Baby looked to Castiel, back and rear end arching into the touch until he began purring and made his way towards Castiel’s hand, his head bumping and nuzzling it. Dean watched how the cat seemed so perfectly warmed up to Cas, and he noticed the smile growing back onto the angels face.

Then he looked to Dean, brows furrowed with his confusion, despite the smile. “How did you get him back?”

“Apparently, he never left.” Dean told him, and something inside him ached with understanding at the look of pure shock at that statement; Castiel really thought that would happen, really expected the cat to leave him, and it surprised him he hadn’t left. Dean cleared his throat, pulling his drink back to himself and glancing down as he prepared to speak. He was briefly delayed as he noticed the hairs sticking to his shirt and with a sigh, he tried brushing them off before giving up.

“But we went outside…I looked away and he was gone…”

“He must have snuck back inside. Must like it in here better than out there. Can’t blame him, this place is awesome.” Dean shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. Thankfully, he’d completely swallowed it before the nesk oncoming sneeze, turning his head to do so and sighing afterwards. “So, uh…about the ‘helping me’ with this whole deal now that he’s sticking around, can you try that out now, before I get too congested? Or you still have mojo to recharge?”

Castiel nodded, stepping forward as he said, “I couldn’t sense him, but I have enough to still do these things.” He first he brushed a hand over Dean’s chest, which surprised him, but when he looked down the hair was gone, so he didn’t complain. Then he looked back to find Castiel’s fingers on his forehead, more specifically near the bridge of his nose, and he could feel the oncoming sneeze dissipate. He still felt that slight discomfort, but there was nothing building as it usually did.

Castiel stepped back then. “…He’s…sticking around?”

Dean observed Castiel, hesitating to answer, but he looked between the angel and the feline and sighed and nodded. “…Yeah. Guess he is.”

Castiel’s smile was huge, all teeth and gum, and it was embarrassing and adorable all at once. Dean just shook his head.

He took a breath. “This means we’ll have to be making runs for stuff for him, too, though.” He stated as he realized.

“I’ve been feeding what seemed appropriate from what you have.” Castiel informed him.

“Yeah, well, some animals need specific kinda stuff, food and entertainment and care wise.” He sighed, rolling his neck a bit. “Just another mouth, of course.” It was a lazy complaint, as if just complaining for complaints sake.

“Technically, he’s only filling in for my lacking needs.” Castiel pointed out, as he didn’t need to eat or anything like that.

Dean looked at him, then shrugged. “Good point. Well—let’s get Sam to cat-sit, we need to make a run.” Dean said, clapping his hands together and going off for a change of clothes, swiping his jacket as he went.

“You’re wanting me to come with?”

“Hey, it’s your cat. You’re gonna be doing the shopping. I’m just supplying the money.” Dean stated. He’d of course have to do more than that, depending on what Castiel didn’t know that the cat might need. Still, he wasn’t doing this shopping by himself.

“Alright.” Castiel agreed, giving the feline a soft scratch behind the ears, pulling a strong purr from him.

It wasn’t too long after Dean left that he returned, dressed and ready.

“Sam, we’re going out!! Keep an eye on the cat!”

“Baby.” Castiel corrected.

“…Yeah, I’m not calling him Baby.”

 

***

 

First on their list was the food. That was simple enough, in Dean’s opinion. Just ask what was the best, most healthy brands for felines, compare prices, and then he’d narrowed down the right one. Next was the litter box.

“Ugh…all these seem too manual.” Dean complained, looking over them, and dreading the idea of if he might EVER have to clean one of these out. Then he looked to Castiel with a creeping worry about how exactly Baby had been handling his business thus far. “You HAVE been keeping up with his crap, right?”

Castiel made a face at how bluntly Dean had put it, but he nodded. “I assure you, I have kept up with his excrement and disposed of it completely and cleanly.”

Dean made a face himself, which turned into a flickering look of disgust before nodding. “Sure. Alright. As long as its cleaned up… But this.” He held up for Castiel. “This, hopefully, you can train him on. Cat owners buy this and they’re pretty much cats bathrooms, y’know? Just gotta train him to go here, when he has to go. Just need to find one that’s simple to clean out.”

Castiel took the box, looking over it and what it said about the scoop, and he made a judgmental look. “We won’t need one of those. With my powers, I can very easily and very quickly dispose of Baby’s—”

“Alright, problem solved.” He nodded, stowing the box in the buggy he was pushing, not wanting to hear any more details on poop patrol. “Okay, litter, then…maybe a toy or two, a scratching post so he doesn’t go fucking up my bed or the couch.”

“Toys?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Yeah, like fake mice, or little bells and feathers on a string. Just stuff to play with him with, or keep him entertained. Some cats like that.” He shrugged.

Castiel looked curiously surprised, before nodding. “I’ll pick out the toys, then.” With that, he went off ahead of Dean, not stopping when Dean tried to advise him to wait.

Sighing, he returned to job of locating the right kitty litter. He made quick work of that, just grabbing what seemed the most trustworthy, before he sought out a scratching post. There were different ones. Ones that filed down the cats claws, and ones that were scented somehow. Some with toys attached, like a two in one thing. There were some that doubled as a little climby thing. Then there was just a nice, simple one, and the cheapest. He neared it, picking it up and looking it over.

But then his eyes wandered back to the one with small, multi-levels attached, and he nipped at the inside of his lip, looking at the price. It was a bit much, but… Hell, maybe it could wear the cat out and keep him lazy most of the time. Putting the cheaper one back, he grabbed the multi-level scratching post, tossing it in the buggy and seeking out the angel.

“Cas?” he called as he was scooting past some pet owners who were looking at some chew toys, and he was about to turn the corner, realizing he was walking down the doggy aisle, when he nearly ran into Castiel at the end of it, causing the angel to drop a mass of items. “What the hell, Cas?”

“I…I wasn’t sure what he would find the most entertaining.” He began explaining, that slightly panicked look on his face as he bent down and began picking it all up. “There were mice, and colorful balls, and moving contraptions. The toys on a string, it—there were so many choices. I guess I…needed your help.”

Dean rolled his eyes, picking up a few of the items Castiel hadn’t gotten, and tossing them into the buggy.

“Don’t you need to check their prices?”

“Let’s just get the stuff and get home.” Dean waved off Castiel’s worry dismissively, turning the buggy around before looking to Castiel. He pushed it in front of the angel, removing his hands and waving to it. “You have the honors.”

“Of pushing the cart?”

“Of making the purchases.” Dean corrected, a smirk growing on his face, even more as Castiel seemed to panic.

“Dean, I don’t—”

“Yes, you do, now, cat owner, now move it.” He nudged him, and Castiel’s shoulders slumped as he took the handle bar and pushed the buggy down the few aisles it took before they found the register. He looked to Dean, eyes pleading one last time, and Dean just shook his head wordlessly and pointed towards the line. He of course stayed by Castiel’s side for the moment as they waited.

He pulled out his wallet, offering it over to Castiel. “You’ve at least learned about money, right? And the different ways to use it?” he asked.

Castiel gave him look. “Enough, yes. If you’re so worried I haven’t, feel free to take over.”

“Haha, nice try.” He remarked as Castiel took the wallet, sighing, and looking at the money Dean had. Just a bit in cash, a few twenties, and fewer hundreds. Dean pointed to one of the cards, though, for Castiel to use instead.

Castiel nodded faintly, taking out the card Dean had pointed at, and as they waited, he curiously looked through more of the wallet. Dean was watching the line before he noticed Castiel looking at the picture set into the picture slot of the wallet. There was a picture of him and Sam, smiling and eating on one side, and on the other, it was an abrupt group picture that had been taken sneakily by Charlie on her first visit that brought a run in with Castiel. It was the four of them on movie night on Sam’s bed, her jumping to take the picture, where Sam was sprawling on one end taking up half the bed (rightly so, as it was his), and Castiel sitting with his legs pulled mostly to his chest, Dean set right next to him, bowlegs sprawled and him slightly leaned for the picture. Sam looked surprised, but amused. Castiel was confused, as always, and Charlie and Dean were the only ones really enjoying it, making wide-mouthed faces.

Castiel smiled fondly at the picture, and Dean noted that he ran his finger over it once before closing the wallet. He looked the angel up and down, before looking ahead.

“Maybe we should get you one, soon.” Dean suggested suddenly.

“One what?”

“A wallet. Get you a new ID, get you some money, some cards. You can get pictures of Baby in there, and us if you want.” Dean explained so simply.

Castiel was silent for a moment, considering. “…If you think I should.”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“True.” He agreed. They were second in line by now, and Castiel pushed the buggy further then. “Next run..?” Castiel offered, and Dean nodded in agreement.

Finally, they were in position for check out, and as Dean started piling all the items onto the conveyor belt, Castiel fumbled to help. Dean managed to get all the little toys first, and Castiel easily lifted the bags of food and litter. Castiel watched the cashier running up the items, Dean moving ahead to grab the bags and stow them in the buggy. The angel looked a little lost as he had to simply just wait, and he watched the money going higher and higher. Once he saw the final cost, he looked apologetically to Dean, who just rolled his eyes and pointed at the card.

Castiel nodded, and looked to the cashier, who looked as patiently as possible to the card swipe attached to the machine offering the cost. Castiel caught on soon enough, and as he was about to swipe the card, Dean made a decently loud cough.

Castiel looked to him, and saw Dean twirl his finger, and Castiel looked to the card and turned it, swiping. Then it asked for a code, and Castiel looked to Dean in a panic.

“Forget again, man?” Dean asked smoothly, though looking somewhat guilty. He seemed to have forgotten, in his determination to make Castiel do something human, that there were a few things he HAD to teach him. He looked the cashier, smiling awkwardly. “Eh, new card, he’s horrible at remembering this crap, that’s why he has me.”

The cashier looked at them suspiciously, and Dean worried that perhaps his preemptive lesson should have been more thought through; this cashier could assume the two of them were using a card they weren’t used to, because they stole it. The cashier eyed them both, before looking at Dean suspiciously. “May I ask who you are exactly to him that he would trust you with something so personal…?” this guy was obviously one of those proud, confident workers, or else he’d sheepishly suggest his suspicions and then completely abandon them.

Dean took a breath, trying to think of what would be the best lie that would shake the suspicion. And as the best option came to mind, he barely thought of it as it left his lips. “His life-partner, is that alright with you if I’m helping him out with his new card?”

Just as he suspected, that was enough to surprise the cashier and make him feel like a douche for his suspicion, and he cleared his throat and finished ringing them up after Dean put in the code. He looked to Castiel with a smirk, only to find the angels head quirked curiously at him.

He just rolled his eyes, took the card and took back the buggy and they were off.

 

***

 

When they’d made it back, they were met with a humorous sight. A nice pile of books on one end of the study’s table, obviously Sam had been doing some research or studying. He wasn’t currently doing that, though, no. He was on the other end of the table, hands planted on the table, head drooping as if he were defeated. As Dean set some of the bags down and left Castiel to unload them, he chuckled, wondering what exactly was going on, until he saw that the feline sitting in front of Sam was there for a reason. Sam’s hair hung just perfectly enough that the cat could swat at it continuously.

“Please tell me…that one of you can get him away from my books. My neck is killing me.” Sam stated.

Dean laughed, clapping his hands. “Well, finally. That mass of brown floof actually has some use.”

“I’m serious, Dean, this is uncomfortable.”

“Then sit down and let him do it!” Dean recommended.

“Then he’ll claw my face!” Sam countered. “Did you get him one of the filing scratch posts?” he asked, still under the curtain of his hair.

“No, actually.. Besides, leave him his claws. Would you take our weapons away? No, the little guy needs those for defense and…other every day needs.”

Sam finally raised his head half way then, lucky his hair was still drooping low enough that the cats claws were mostly missing his face. “Little guy?” he asked, but there was something a little too amused in his tone.

Dean rolled his eyes, and went to help Castiel at least set up the litter box, hearing the groaning from Sam and then the footsteps as the other Winchester finally gave up, and started putting away the books he’d been looking at, at least to keep them safe for now.

Dean, after removing the litter box from its cardboard box, and filling it with litter, looked around, considering the right place to put it.

Sam made his way over as Castiel was looking over the little toys, jingling a bell-ringing mouse that had the cat running and leaping up to him, swatting at it and taking it and Castiel’s hand into his grasp as he settled on his back, Castiel shaking and playing with it and with him with a smile on his face.

“So…he’s staying.” Sam said.

Dean just stared at him as his brothers smirk grew.

“Told you so just doesn’t sound good enough.” He folded his arms, looking from the angel and back to Dean. “So…you really gonna just call him the Little Guy?”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, glancing back at the cat. “No. Gotta figure something to call him, though, because I’m not calling him baby. There are only three things that will ever get that name from my lips.” He held up his hand, hooking the litter box under his arm, pulling up one finger at a time as he counted off. “An actual infant child. A hot enough little something to call baby. And my ’67 Chevy Impala, as that is MY Baby.” He stated, lowering his hand then, glancing back at the cat one more time.

“Why did he call it that, anyways?” Sam asked.

“His fur. Castiel thought it reminded him of the car, and thought it was fitting, so he stole my name.” he informed his brother, ignoring how childish the last bit sounded, and especially ignoring Sam’s brief chuckle. But then he started to consider Castiel’s reasoning, and something came to mind. Quirking his mouth curiously, he looked to his brother. “What do you think about Chevy?”

Sam watched Dean questioningly, raising a brow. “…I…think it matches Cas’ name.” he shrugged, and Dean nodded thoughtfully, looking to the cat and completely missing the smirk on Sam’s lip as he realized Dean completely missed the light accusation in his statement. Sam shrugged again and said, “Eh, why not try it out? See if he responds to it.”

Dean nodded again. “Might as well.” He went over the Castiel, then, telling him to find a place for the toys to go and somewhere to put the litter box to start training the cat as he himself took the cat food to the kitchen.

It wasn’t until he poured the cat’s first bowl of cat food that he decided he’d try and see if the name would work on him. Maybe he could even get Cas to use Chevy instead, but it was his pet or, perhaps it was better to call him Castiel’s ‘friend’, and Dean wasn’t going to undermine him or his choices.

But he definitely wasn’t going to call the cat Baby. That was a reserved name.

He set the bowl down in the corner of the kitchen, making sure he had a second bowl of water, before he went looking for the cat. He wondered if he’d need another dose of heavenly touch if he ended up having to go and get the cat and carry him back here, but he didn’t have to wonder as he made little clicking noise and walked out into the hallway. He found the feline was making its way to the kitchen already. More so down the hall, and he was proud to see the feline reacted to him how he wanted, and followed him in.

He backed his way to where he’d set up his food, crouching down beside it waiting for the cat to make his way over. He stared at Dean, turning his head curiously, and Dean turned his back, wondering if that cat could have seriously just almost looked like Castiel with that, before the feline began heading for the counter.

“Hey, no, no, food. Food is here.” He stated in the cats direction, not getting his attention whatsoever. He tried the clicking, and he got a glance or two, but nothing else. He took up the food bowl and shook it, waving his hand over it so the foods smell might waft towards the feline. Another glance, and a half turn, but he didn’t budge.

“Come on, you gotta be hungry.” Dean grumbled. He looked around the kitchen to assure it was empty, and briefly contemplated his next action before committing it. “Hey…hey, Chevy…” he clicked and cooed weekly.

The feline quirked his head again, before turning to face the counter once more. He saw him lower himself, butt wiggling and he leapt before Dean could get the stern ‘no’ out. He sighed, standing.

“Come on, man. Work with me. I’m not calling you Baby.” He put his hands on his hips.

The feline meowed at the word, making his way across the counter in Dean’s direction.

“No, look, I’m not calling you that! Castiel can call you that all day for all I care, but I’m calling you Chevy, capeesh?”

In response, the feline set his focus on a coffee glass in such a perfect position for being knocked off.

“Ch-Chevy, stop! God, this is ridiculous, this is why I don’t DO pets! Freaking talking to something that won’t talk back…” he shook his head. “I don’t know how Cas does this with you…unless he understands animal speak…?” he seemed to consider.

The feline was getting closer and closer, though and he took a step forward. “Hey, stop! Right there…” he pointed a stern finger, and he was feeling a little déjà vu.

“He won’t respond to harsh tones, Dean. You have to be gentle.”

Dean turned then to see Castiel leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. And he looked amused, which made Dean glare before looking back to the cat.

“I’m beginning to think he won’t listen to me at all…” Dean pouted, crossing his arms as the feline slinked slowly towards the cup. “And look, sorry, but I’m calling him Chevy. You call him what you want, but I got that title reserved for other things, you know?”

Castiel just nodded, understanding. “That’s alright. He just needs a chance to warm up to it.”

There was a sudden crash then as the angel stopped beside Dean, and Dean sighed, looking at the shattered pieces of the cup he honestly could have grabbed and gotten away from the cat, but for whatever reason, he’d decided not to.

He did look back at the feline with faint accusation, though, despite having done so little to prevent the ‘accident’. “…I can see Satan in his eyes when he does that.”

Castiel looked confused, and turned to Dean seriously. “My brother hasn’t taken a vessel in this feline, Dean.”

Dean looked at Castiel and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I—whatever. Either way, he’s never gonna respond to me is he, really? Mister Pet/Companion Guru.” He wiggled his fingers, nudging the bowl of cat food and using a mock-gentle tone as he said, “He’s not gonna respond to, ‘Here, Chevy, come and eat, you little fluff-ball.’”

The feline leapt down and made his way towards the bowl finally, looking up to Dean, meowing, and then he started eating.

Dean could only stare. He didn’t dare look at Castiel, because he could feel, actually FEEL that smirk. He didn’t wear it often, but the angel definitely had a smirk, and he was definitely wearing it now.

“It seems as if he accepts his second name.”

“Yeah, should have nicknamed him smartass.”

 

***

 

At this point, the coffee cups were being put away when not in use, as were other breakable items, though Castiel had managed to mostly deter Baby from such activities as destroying useful items. It helped that he went out and found use _less_ items for him to break instead.

Dean had managed to conquer his allergy, mostly, with Castiel’s help. He was fine if he kept a distance, brief contact or nearness brought on a sneeze or two, which he could get over, and prolonged contact or nearness meant he needed some angel nazal spray, which usually helped him for the rest of the day. He complained now and again, as Dean does. But he wasn’t going back on his promise to let Castiel keep Baby. So it was obviously something Dean was accepting about his life now.

Sam had to make a few changes, as well, not just Castiel or Dean. It was only when Baby came around (and he used Castiel name for the feline out of respect, no matter Dean’s jokes or complaints). But due to the attractive nature of Sam’s flowing brown strands of hair, he either had to pull out the toy-on-a-string to distract Baby, or he had to actually put his hair back in a ponytail.

Dean had gotten picture of that at this point. And he never let it go on without making comment on it. He asked Castiel again if he’d like to braid Sam’s hair, which Castiel was willing to try to, but Sam of course declined.

Cat-food and, eventually, cat litter had become a part of their list of food and necessities, but it wasn’t a very impactful stretch as Dean had worried it might be. And on top of that, little to no cat-hair problems, barely any unwanted scratch marks where there should be, and Dean and Sam NEVER had to go near the litter box? It was the most perfect arrangement ever.

There was the occasional frustration, when the feline got restless and acted, as Dean put it, like an attention whore. And Castiel worried almost like a mother when he was brought with Sam and Dean on hunts, leaving the feline alone.

But Baby fit in just as much as any of the three Winchester’s did. Castiel made a comment once about how he was right, before, when he had stated they’d been ‘one species short’. He felt like Baby balanced them out. Dean and Sam didn’t comment, though Dean did laugh and Sam did smile.

Currently, they all took up the TV-Room couch, watching a movie with Sam’s laptop attached to a projector they’d bought (not EVERYTHING in the bunker was surprisingly useful and tech-y, plus they’d managed to purchase a couch for nights such as these because hell, they happened SOMETIMES, so why not be comfortable and normal about it?).

Sam took up most of couch, without meaning to of course (much like his bed in Dean’s picture), and Dean and Castiel were settled comfortably next to one another, Castiel’s Baby curled up with his head resting on the angels thigh and his tail laying across Dean’s hand, which he thoughtlessly pet now and again, because it was too soft not to. Sometimes he’d pet over the felines back, too, to feel it’s purring. It was surprisingly calming to him.

It didn’t pass Castiel notice, either, that Dean was doing that more and more, despite it having to lead to him having to clear his allergic reaction because of it. It made the angel happy. Dean had warmed up to Baby better and quicker than he thought he would. And he was glad to have the feline around. He’d felt its loneliness, its struggle, and he wanted to make it better, and he was doing so. It made him feel useful again, to have something so dependent and trusting of him that he could actually help.

Dean and Sam tended to be that, but his relationship with the brothers had become far too even and mostly equal (they nearly took care of him and helped him and taught him as much as he tried to do with them, or did) to feel like that anymore. He didn’t feel as useful as he used to, even if he perhaps still was.

He felt Baby shifting against him, and watched as he rolled and stretched out, his front paws splayed in front of him and he chuckled, his hind paws stretching in front of Dean, who proceeded to catch the paw and press at its padding softly, chuckling himself.

Baby promptly pulled his foot away, and then scurried off.

“Aw come on, Chevy, I was just giving you a foot massage!” Dean complained.

“Would you shhh? I’m trying to watch.” Sam complained.

“Why don’t you shh?” Dean remarked back, and Castiel could sense one of their brief, childish banters coming.

But it was perfectly interrupted as they were both preparing more witty retorts, and suddenly Baby had leapt onto Sam’s shoulder, only to slip and grasp onto his hair, dangling from it causing Sam to dangle his head over the couch, left to struggle against the felines weight as Dean fell backwards in a fit of laughter, falling against Castiel as he slapped his leg from the hilarity.

Yes. This was certainly a perfect collection of species. Castiel was sure they all fit perfectly together.

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear friend Heather, and her late feline friend. I hope this does him justice and at least puts a smile on your face.


End file.
